Wing Man
by pacejunkie
Summary: Sam gets suspicious when the Devil starts hanging out with Sock


**Title:** Wing Man

**Fandom:** Reaper

**Rating:** PG/K+

**Summary:** Sam gets suspicious when the Devil starts hanging out with Sock

**Word Count:** 3,799

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Reaper and if I did it sure wouldn't be on the CW.

**A/N:** Just a shameless pimp for ReaperDMV (reapertwop.). Visit for more fun stuff. Also, this fic is dedicated to _How I Met Your Mother_'s Barney Stinson, the quintessential wing man.

* * *

It was turning out to be a day of firsts. Sam washed a new red sweatshirt for the first time and was now sporting pink underwear to work. He learned why people on TV always gag when they accidentally drink week old milk.

And the Devil was talking to his friend Sock.

The sour taste that still lingered in his mouth was replaced instantly by a worse one as soon as Sam entered the Work Bench and saw his demonic boss chatting up his best friend in the lighting aisle. In all the time Sam had been working for the Devil, he had never once approached Sam's friends. This was a first all right, every bit as distasteful as pink underwear and week old milk.

Sam hung back and watched from behind the light bulb display at the end of the aisle. They were too far away to hear, but Sam's lip curled at the sight of Sock smiling and the Devil patting him congenially on the shoulder. _Were they talking about me_, Sam wondered. _What else could those two possibly have to talk about? _Sam watched for a few minutes more until the Devil left, whistling and strutting out the door in the opposite direction from where Sam now stood. When it was safe to come out he approached his friend.

"Hey," Sam greeted him. "Was that the Devil I just saw you with?"

Sock looked over his shoulder casually and then quickly started shelving boxes, something he almost never did.

"Oh yeah," he said, "Whatever right?"

"What did he want to talk to you about?" asked Sam.

"Nothing," said Sock, now shelving a bit faster, "just guy stuff. You know, chicks, cars… and maybe something about hitting a club later tonight."

Sam looked back in shock, "You're going _out_ with him? Sock, he's not a guy, he's the Devil."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that Sam," said Sock, turning testy, "and you know what, the Devil's no different from anybody else. He's just lonely. He needs a wing man, someone to hang with and help him pick up girls. I felt bad for him and wanted to help out, that's all."

"He's probably lying to you," Sam observed.

"I'm not stupid, I can take care of myself," said Sock. "Partying with Satan sounds like the ultimate gas. You should join us."

"No, that's okay," Sam said, turning to head off to the break room to clock in.

He had no desire to spend more time with the Devil than he absolutely had to. Just working for him -- being enslaved actually -- was more than enough. Unencumbered by this concern, maybe that was why this seemed like harmless fun to Sock. There was a first time for everything, but like his other firsts of the day, Sam didn't imagine that anything good would come of this.

* * *

Sam went to sleep before Sock got home that night so the next morning in their apartment Sam asked him how it went.

"We had an awesome time, that Satan's a cool dude," said Sock, looking bleary-eyed and pouring coffee on his Crunch Berries. "We talked, had a few drinks and that was that."

"Where'd you go?" Sam asked.

Sock looked up from his breakfast and spoke, mouth full of cereal. "What are you my mom?"

"Well, if you don't want to tell me," said Sam casually, opening the refrigerator.

"All right we went to a strip club, are you happy?" Sock blurted.

Sam smiled. "Is that what the Devil meant by lonely?"

Sock wasn't joining in on the joke; instead he turned edgy. "Look, I'm sorry if it offends your Victorian sensibilities but get used to it because we're going out again tonight."

Sam was slightly taken aback by this news but he tried not to show it.

"Okay, but if he asks you to wear a dress and high heels, say no," Sam replied.

* * *

This time Sam waited up for Sock to come home. He didn't know why he was doing it or when he had turned into his mom but something told him he should. As nice as the Devil was acting, he was still the Prince of Darkness and Sam knew he wasn't to be trusted. He watched TV, played some video games and had nodded off by the time Sock stumbled in loudly at two forty five in the morning. His friend nearly fell in the door, his keys dropping from his hand just inside the threshold, silly grin plastered to his face, matching the rest of him which was also plastered.

"Sammy!" he shouted, arms wide.

Sam shushed him because Ben was asleep in the bedroom.

"How did you get home?" Sam asked, taking in the sight of him. There was a wet stain on the front of his shirt that Sam didn't want to know about.

Sock staggered to the refrigerator, removed a beer and waved it around as he spoke like a conductor's baton.

"Uh, my _car_?" he answered. "Duh, Sam."

"You _drove_? Like _that_?" Sam said.

This time it was Sock who shushed Sam, "Whoah, volume down, take it easy." He paused and opened his beer, and then his face went blank. "Now what were we talking about?"

Sam reached over and grabbed the beer bottle. "You could have _killed_ somebody Sock!"

"Oh that," said Sock. "I was fine, the Devil said so. Lucifer took one look at me and handed me the keys. And he was right too. Driving home was so easy I don't even remember doing it."

Sam put his arms over his head and sank down over the kitchen counter. It wasn't the first time he wished for his whole life to be different.

"Oh by the way," Sock continued, taking a slip of paper out of his pocket and holding it up. "Maybe you want to make up with me now because I got a stripper's phone number and she has a twin sister."

"I don't believe this," said Sam.

Sock dropped the paper on the counter and took back his beer, taking a hard swig. "Well, Andi doesn't have to know _everything_. When did you become such a drag?"

"Since my best friend started hanging with the Devil," snapped Sam.

"Oh, so that's what this is about," Sock said. "You're just mad because I think the Devil's a cooler guy to hang with. You're _jealous_."

Sam laughed and shook his head, "I'm going to bed."

He closed his door and left Sock out in the kitchen, making himself a snack that he would only hurl violently two hours later. He thought about their conversation as he fell asleep. Of course he wasn't jealous, that was the booze talking, but it couldn't be denied that the Devil and Sock seemed more compatible as buddies. While Sam stayed at home and fretted like Ben's grandmother, they were enjoying themselves doing all the things Sam had in the past refused to do, and the fact that Sam now had a steady girlfriend probably made him even less fun.

No, he decided, shaking the toxic thought out of his head, Sock's making a mistake. The Devil's up to something and if Sock wasn't going to listen to him he'd have to try something else.

* * *

"Ben you gotta help Sock."

Ben listened the next day at work as Sam told him about Sock's wild night with Satan.

"He needs to stop before he gets into some serious trouble," Sam said. "But he won't listen to me."

"Have you tried talking to the Devil about it?" Ben asked.

"No," Sam admitted, "he'd just lie to me anyway. He's obviously doing this for some reason so he wouldn't stop just because I asked him to. Maybe if you tagged along the next time you could keep an eye on Sock."

"Why don't you do it?" asked Ben.

"You make a better mole," said Sam. "They'd know I wasn't really there to hang with them. Sock already accused me of being jealous of their friendship."

"All right, I'll go," said Ben. "Strip clubs huh? Tough assignment but I'll do my best."

* * *

Sam and Andi were out having pizza, but Sam couldn't keep his mind on the date. It became obvious to his girlfriend when Sam's eyes glazed over for the third time while Andi was talking. She only got his attention back when she tested him by saying she wanted them to get matching tattoos.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Are you still worried about Sock?" Andi asked Sam finally.

"It's making me crazy," Sam admitted. "I expect this kind of thing from Sock but I want to know what the Devil's after, why he's doing this."

"Ben's got a good head on his shoulders," Andi noted, "he'll probably set Sock straight. Sending him along was a good idea."

"They don't know him like I do," Sam said, still stewing over thoughts of the Devil. "He's evil."

"Ben will take care of it," Andi assured him.

* * *

When Sam arrived for his shift the next day he expected to see a contrite Sock and a self satisfied Ben. Instead, he was met with two compatriots, laughing their asses off over the night they had, sharing stories of their debauchery with each other, reliving the moments.

"Well how did I know it was pierced?" Sock chuckled, as Ben exploded in laughter all over again, fighting a losing battle to keep control.

Sam walked up, confused, feeling a bit betrayed as he took Ben aside.

"Ben, what happened?" asked Sam.

Ben composed himself as best he could before answering, "You've got nothing to worry about, Sam. The Devil just said that any friends of Sam's are friends of his and he wants to get to know us a little better. He was cool, we had some drinks, went to a club… did a little gambling."

Ben's voice had trailed off with the last part of his sentence so Sam had to ask him to repeat it before freaking out.

"What was that?" asked Sam, "It sounded like you said you went gambling. I hope it wasn't with your rent money."

"It was fine," Ben said, trying to placate his friend, "we didn't break any laws that I know of. The Devil even gave me some real Cuban cigars and showed me how to smoke them."

Sam just stared. "You were supposed to reel Sock in, not join the boy's club."

"Well you used to be one of the boys, what happened?" asked Ben.

_The Devil happened,_ thought Sam, but he didn't say it. "I've got to do something, before you guys wind up selling your souls."

"I would never do that," Ben insisted. "What's wrong with hanging out with the guy as long as you don't sign anything?"

"I never signed anything," Sam shot back. "Did I tell you about the time he sewed my mouth shut, or the time he tried to break my fingers?"

Ben didn't have an answer, but only managed weakly, "It's not like that. Your situation's different. Besides, the Devil didn't get you into this mess, your parent's did."

"There's always a catch," said Sam, ignoring Ben's retort, "you just don't know it yet."

* * *

Sam went back to his apartment during his lunch break, intent on putting a stop to this. As soon as he arrived he looked up, and then decided to look down, and called out, "You can come out now! I know you can hear me! You're probably watching all this and pissing yourself! I need to talk to you!"

Just as Sam expected he would, The Devil appeared, happy as ever. "What's your damage bro, you've been a buzz kill."

_Yeah,_ Sam thought, _he knows exactly why he's here._ "Why are you hanging out with my friends?"

"Hmm, paranoid much?" The Devil asked. "Does there have to be an ulterior motive?"

"Yes," said Sam. "What is it?"

The Devil just laughed, "You know me too well, Sammy. Well, I got tired of being rejected by you and I went elsewhere. Best move I ever made, those guys are way more fun than you ever were."

"Is that what this is about," asked Sam, "this is just some twisted way to get back at me because I wouldn't be your friend?"

"Not everything's about you Sammy," the Devil replied. "Truth is my census is low this month, I'm short on a few souls. People are too savvy these days when it comes to contracts, they have lawyers, they know about fine print." As the Devil spoke the words, he shuddered at the thought of an educated consumer, and continued, "So, I have to get creative -- a sin here, a sin there, brick by brick. There's more than one way to skin a Sock. Oh, did I say that?" He laughed, "Freudian slip!"

"You're trying to get Sock to end up in hell," Sam realized in horror.

The Devil's smile grew even wider. He looked like the Cheshire Cat. "It's turning out even better than I expected. I thought Sock would be an easy mark but then you go and send me Ben. Two for the price of one. Boy Sammy, I tell you we make one hell of a team. You could be my wing man."

"No," Sam said, "I'll go to them and tell them everything. I won't let you do it."

"That's cute, Sammy," the Devil replied, unruffled, "but I think you may be running out of time."

At those words the Devil had vanished. Sam stood alone once again in his living room and contemplated what he had learned. The Devil wanted to turn Sock into a sinner and now Ben too. But what did he mean by running out of time? Everyone had a chance at redemption so how could he be too late? Even if you repent on the day you die you…

_The day you die. _

Crap.

Sam ran to the desk drawer and pulled out a calendar. It was the 30th of September. The Devil said he had to meet his quota that month. He was right. Sam was out of time.

And so were Sock and Ben.

* * *

Sam hurried back to the Bench to find his friends. "Guys!" he said, out of breath, "I need to talk to you. You're in trouble. The Devil is trying to corrupt your souls and then kill you and it's gonna happen tonight."

Sock and Ben looked at Sam, bemused. Finally, Sock came forward and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "This is pretty pathetic bro, even for you."

"It's true, he told me," Sam insisted.

"He told you he was going to kill us?" asked Ben.

"Well, not exactly, but he hinted at it. Sort of. Look the point is you have to trust me," said Sam. "I don't think you should go out with him tonight."

"Why would he hurt us," asked Ben, "it doesn't make any sense. He needs us as friends."

"The Devil doesn't have friends," Sam pointed out.

"I find it hard to believe that Jerry could hurt anybody," said Sock.

"You call him _Jerry_?" said Sam.

"Yeah, that's the name he likes to use when he's here," Sock said. "Oh, I'm sorry you didn't know that? Maybe if you cared enough to get to know the guy you'd understand him. He misses Mimi, he's just looking for some companionship."

"I understand him better than you think," Sam replied, "And he's lying to you. He's going to try to kill you and send you to hell."

"Oh yeah," countered Sock, punctuated his words with an accusatory finger, "or is it that this is killing _you_ Sam? You don't like it that we can be friends with the Devil too. It makes you feel less special."

Sam's fists tightened. He knew if he responded he'd say something he'd regret so instead he pulled back and said only, "I'm right about this. You guys are heading straight to hell and I'm going to save you whether you like it or not."

* * *

Sam followed them that night to the strip club. Disguised in a baseball cap and sunglasses, he watched Sock and Ben from a secluded corner, nursing his drink, wary of everything he saw. He looked above where his friends' sat at a ringside table, checking to see if anything was rigged to fall on them. When the topless waitress delivered their drinks, Sam wondered if the Devil had managed to spike them with poison. But they all toasted and drank and no one's eyes bugged out and nobody collapsed into seizures. He could identify no weapons or sinister items of any kind.

Despite his suspicions, his friends seemed to be having a great time, smoking cigars, laughing and poking dollar bills into a pole dancer's bra. The Devil looked relaxed and happy, not at all the picture of someone about to commit murder.

Sam was starting to feel as though he himself had been duped, and that the Devil knew he would be reduced to this, skulking in the dark places like a bitter spectator, left out of the party, waiting for some disaster that refused to come. Or maybe his friends were right and the Devil just wanted to have some slightly naughty fun and needed companions. It must have been lonely at the bottom. Who did he have anyway? He tried to do these things with Sam but Sam had resisted, suspecting that the Devil's primary motive was to corrupt him, not be his pal. Could the whole story about a monthly soul quota have been a ruse, to cover his vulnerability over the actual truth?

Hours went by and Sam was growing tired. The waitress was giving him odd looks, wondering if he was ever going to join in the entertainment or leave. She was gorgeous but Sam couldn't allow himself to be distracted for even a minute. He checked his watch -- it was almost midnight. If something was about to happen, it would have to be soon, the month was almost over. Sam felt the crawl of anticipation in his stomach and on his skin. His pulse raced to the tempo of the sultry electronic porn music.

Finally it happened. Just the slightest of movements but Sam noticed the Devil surreptitiously glance at his watch while Sock and Ben were entranced by the dancers. Sam leaned forward, pulling his sunglasses down for a better look. The Devil leaned in a similar manner towards Sam's friends and with a word and gesture pointed to the door. He was suggesting it was time to leave.

Sam put his glasses back on and turned his back as they passed him on their way to the exit. Then he rose and followed, staying a few paces behind as he went. The group reached the parking lot, Sock and Ben singing and swaying, as Sam watched like a protective shadow.

Just then Sam's attention was caught by the screech of tires and the roar of an engine. A car was pulling out of the lot from the back, swerving wildly and out of control. The Devil was standing safely off to one side, but Sock and Ben were dead center of the lot with the car bearing down on the both of them with no sign of slowing. Drunk as they were, Sam knew his friends' reflexes had to be dulled and indeed they stood frozen.

"NOOOOOO!!" Sam yelled as he charged, sprinting towards his friends.

Barreling into Sock and pushing him into Ben, Sam bulldozed the both of them into a pile of garbage bags and empty cardboard beer cases. Sam landed heavily with his friends into something hard. He let out a groan from the pain in his back. Watching from his noxious resting place, Sam saw the car continue on its path, crash landing into the brick exterior of the strip club with a sickening crunch and the shatter of a windshield.

Sam brought his arms up to shield himself from the flying glass and auto parts. Then he turned to his friends still lying in the garbage alongside him like smelly bookends.

"Are you guys okay?" Sam asked.

"Sam," Sock panted, "What are you doing here?"

Ben's eyes were opened but he seemed to have temporarily lost the ability to speak. He merely stared from Sock to Sam and then over to the car and the Devil, who stood calmly next to the horrific crash site as though he were waiting for a bus.

The Devil checked his watch again. "Made it," he said, "just under the wire."

"What are you talking about?" asked Sam from the ground, furious.

"I made my quota," the Devil said smiling, pointing to the now dead driver of the car. "This guy was about to get on the highway and kill a family of five. You did it again Sammy."

Sam looked at his friends again and then back to the Devil, confused. "But I thought you just tried to kill Sock and Ben?" he said.

The Devil laughed, "Did I? Well, all's well that ends well right? I got my soul and you boys had the time of your lives. I say we celebrate. Who's up for a lap dance?"

Sock and Ben were still on the ground, white as sheets, both ready to lose their lunch.

"Uh no," said Ben, verbal at last. "I got to be at work early, but you guys go ahead."

Sock spoke next, looking shell-shocked, "I'm gonna pass too, sir, if that's all right with you of course. I think I'm coming down with something."

"Must be a case of common sense," Sam muttered.

"Hey Sock," said Ben, "maybe you and I ought to go volunteer at a soup kitchen tomorrow or something. I don't know why but I feel like doing that."

"Sounds good Benjy," said Sock.

Sam hated being used, it wasn't the first time the Devil had done something like this to him, but the worst part is that Sam still didn't know what exactly he had been used for. Sam didn't know if the Devil really did mean to kill his friends, if he was just corrupting them as insurance against the guy he really wanted, or if it all had gone exactly as planned. Either way, the Devil looked as though he didn't regret it one bit and that scared Sam more than anything.

"Go on and celebrate," Sam told him, pushing himself off the ground and offering his friends a hand up, "we're going home."

"Fair enough," the Devil replied, waving them off, "but Sammy."

"What?" said Sam, turning back.

The Devil smiled. "You're the best wing man a guy ever had."


End file.
